A voice in the dark
by Feux follet
Summary: [Os] Jo is about to leave for New York. But leaving the house where she lived, the people she loves, is hard. In the dark times, it is always good to hear a sweet voice, reminding us that everything will be fine.


_Hello!_

_I wanted to write about Little Women for a long time, but I never dared to do it. Now, I am trying, and I hope that you will like it. _

_English is not my first language, so there might be mistakes, here and there, but I hope that it won't bother you. _

_Have a nice reading :)_

* * *

_A voice in the dark_

_"I wanted to say goodbye to someone,_

_and have someone say goodbye to me. _

_The goodbyes we speak_

_ and the goodbyes we hear_

_ are the goodbyes that tell us _

_we're still alive."_

_― Stephen King_

The house seemed deserted. There was Meg, and the children. Jo could hear them laughing in the garden. Surely Marmee was with them. She also heard her father's soft and deep voice. That voice that she had so many times thought she had lost. That voice that had resounded one evening in a distant time. But Beth wasn't visible anywhere, and Amy was gone. The laughter no longer had the same sounds as before. They were no longer these young girls, who thought that tomorrow was another world, distant and imaginary. One by one, they were flying away, leaving the nest to live their lives. Meg, Amy, and now it was her. Beth would leave too, whether they're ready or not. And the old walls of the house would remember, returning the echo of their missing voices.

Looking around, Jo felt the weight of those past years. She felt the sweetness of it, and nostalgia was already gaining her. She remembered her words, confessed to her mother, at a time when Beth had been so close to death. These whispered words, looking like a terrible secret. The fear of time passing, the fear of stolen years, the escape of that innocence and complicity that had brightened their youth. Even if she would have laughed at it by now, like her mother once was close to do, Jo would have liked this wish to come true. But if she knew that door was closed forever, she knew that others, open or about to open, would allow her to experience beautiful adventures. She didn't know yet which ones, or how long it would take her, but in the end, she had confidence. Even if it was hard to believe, looking at her luggage, which had been locked since the day before.

Leaving these sad thoughts in her young lady's room, Jo got up and climbed the few steps that would lead her to the kingdom of her dreams. How she would miss the attic. She would leave behind the family of rats who had made their home there, and who had been a faithful witness to her literary adventures. But when she opened the door, she realized that she was not alone. Someone else had taken refuge here.

"Beth?"

The girl straightened up, jumping up and down. A few tears were still running through his sweet face, which a smile was trying to illuminate.

"Oh Jo, it's you. Excuse me, I don't want to disturb you. I just wanted to... I just wanted to see if anything had moved," she whispered, getting up.

"Oh Beth" Jo sighed, as she sat, inviting her sister to do the same. "Everything moved, didn't it?"

She had understood her sister's reference. It wasn't about the furniture, or the papers. It was much deeper than that.

"It had to, Jo. We are growing up, and that is normal. I mean, there's nothing we can do, is there?"

"No, Beth. There's nothing we can do about it."

There was a long silence. Jo's departure the next day seemed to be hovering in the room. Something finally pushed the young woman to turn to her sister, before whispering these few words, her voice shaking

"Sometimes... Sometimes I was ready to give up."

"Ready to give up... what?" Beth asked, looking at her gently.

"Writing?" Jo replied, tears in his eyes. "All those things I've been working on."

"You've never... You never mentioned it."

"I know. But I'm doing it now."

"Jo... Writing is not a question of right or wrong. Do you want to write? Do it. Do it. No matter what happens. Is that your passion? Do it."

"No one has ever taken me seriously. I wonder if sometimes I wasn't lying to myself."

"No, you weren't. You are born to be a writer. Write, Jo. It is your life. Tell your story. It doesn't work? Try again. You will succeed, one day, I am sure of it. But never give up, Jo. Please. And don't worry about what is coming, and what you think you have lost. It is alright to be scared, but everything will be alright. And you can't loose all these beautiful moments we lived. We have memories to cherish, even if we are not all together. All you have to do is love someone and their presence will be felt." The young girl added, with the kindness and gentleness that had always characterized her. "In a few years, you will come back, haloed with the success of your books. Amy will become a painter, and Meg will be there too. It won't be the same thing, though. It can't be. But it will be a new and equally precious happiness."

Jo observed her sister for a moment. There was a lot to say about Beth. Everyone could say she was shy. Everyone could say she was sweet. Everyone could say she was nice. But how many people were aware of her strength? She never let herself be defeated for long, and for the good of all, she would have let herself die. It took courage to live such a life.

"Beth... Take care of yourself when I get to New York." Jo said, as if she was ready to say something else, but changed her mind on the last second. "And live."

"I promise you, Jo. As for you. Take care of yourself and don't give up. Promise me that."

"I promise you."

The sun had begun to decline, and the room gradually took on soft, almost magical shades. The hue of these photographs that are carefully kept, like treasures. At that moment, Jo had the impression that life offered them a living photograph. Beth's face lit up, as the sun shone. Something strong was knotting. Jo knew that. She could feel it. This moment counted, and would count as long as she lived. Her sister's sweet laughter. Her melancholic smile. His dark eyes. Everything would remain engraved in her memory.

* * *

_Thanks for reading this. _

_I hope you liked it!_

_Please, tell me your impressions, and what you thought about it :)_

_Have a nice day!_


End file.
